Missing Moment
by CatherineA
Summary: A missing moment from CoHF. Spoilery, so full description inside.


** Well, CoHF was completely brilliant. And it gave me all the feels. So, of course I wrote a fanfiction! THERE ARE SPOILERS.  
**

** Basically, I realized that during the whole book Clary admitted that she wasn't okay. And, being the awesome and strong heroine that she is, she kept going through it. But even the strongest people just need a little comfort sometimes. So, I wrote this. Enjoy!**

* * *

Clary sat in the kitchen in Amatis' small house, mechanically putting her fork to her plate, her mouth, and back again. Her mother and Luke sat around the circular table, too. Clary saw them shooting each other concerned glances when the other wasn't looking – they were worried for each other.

Clary felt…well, ridiculously overwhelmed. She'd tried calling Simon earlier. Of course he hadn't remembered her. She'd been embarrassed afterword, shrugging Jia's pitying glances off.

But now she was back from that awful quarantine. All she'd wanted the whole time was to see her friends, her parents. It had been awful.

And she was just so _tired_. She wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for years. (But of course her mother had insisted she eat first.) She wanted to talk to her friends about what happened, what only they could understand, and yet she just wanted to be alone. And she _missed Simon_.

Clary hadn't realized the tears she was blinking away until her mother's voice cut through her foggy mind.

"Clary? Are you all right?"

Clary opened her mouth, planning on reassuring them that she was fine, but the words caught in her throat, the tears that suddenly flowed down her cheeks blocking them from escaping her mouth.

Luke was the first at her side, pushing his chair back with a scraping sound and dropping his fork with a clink. He knelt at her side, and Clary leaned into his strong embrace, trying desperately to hold back the worst of her tears. Her mother was there not a second later, kneeling just behind Luke and taking both of Clary's hands in her own.

"Clary, baby," whispered Jocelyn soothingly. "Talk to us. What's wrong?"

And that's when Clary broke.

Sobs wracked through her body, she squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't breathe. Vaguely, she was aware of her parents squeezing her more tightly, but her mind was a fog of exhaustion, stress, and grief.

She heard clips of worried whispering:

"…exhausted, and grieving…"

"…a wonder she's been strong this long…"

"…we should have paid more attention…"

Her mother's voice, crisp and clear, finally brought her back from complete numbness.

"Clary, baby, I'm so sorry. Are you listening?"

Clary managed a nod, though she couldn't see through her tears. She buried her head in the space between Luke's shoulder and neck. She wanted nothing more than to block out the world.

"Clary, I'm not going to tell you everything's okay," Jocelyn continued. "It's not. I get that. No one should have to go through what you have been through these past few months. And I know that's partly my fault, for not exposing you to this life gradually. And I am so sorry. But can you tell us exactly what's bothering you?"

Clary shook her head into Luke's shoulder. She felt her mother let go of her hands and move to her other side, combing her fingers through Clary's hair.

"Why not?" she asked gently.

"Too much," whispered Clary. She felt so weak. As if they hadn't gone through as much as her. Luke had lost his sister, Jocelyn her son. And they were being strong, they weren't a heap of tears.

"How about you start with the big things, then," suggested Luke.

Clary pulled back, leaning against the hard chair back and swiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. It was getting easier to breathe, she realized.

"I just – it's everything," Clary began. "Everything has happened so quickly. A few months ago I didn't know this world existed, and now I've fought in two wars for it. And then there's all the lives lost. And Sebastian, the way he looked at – at the end. That wasn't the brother that spent the last few months terrorizing everyone. And I miss Simon!"

"Can we do anything?" asked Jocelyn.

"Would some of my world famous hot chocolate make it any better?" Luke joked quietly. Clary managed a watery smile – the joke being that no one but her and her mother had ever had the beverage. She nodded, wiping at her eyes again.

Luke grinned and stood, squeezing Clary's shoulder as he moved from the dining room in to the kitchen.

Jocelyn rose too, and disappeared for several moments into the kitchen, in which time Clary was able to stop most of her tears. Jocelyn returned holding a steaming cup of hot chocolate, smiling softly.

"You wanna go lie down?" she asked. Clary nodded, taking the mug that Jocelyn had held out to her. "I'll walk you up," Jocelyn said, dusting her hands on her worn jeans. Clary began to sip at the steaming drink, letting its warmth comfort and calm her.

The two walked side by side up the small staircase leading to the guest room. Clary was once more reminded how alike the must look to other people. Two small, petite red heads. And Clary's supposed she'd inherited some of her mother's personality traits, too. At least, she hoped so. She couldn't think of any person she'd rather grow to be like.

Clary sipped some more at her hot chocolate before setting it on the nightstand and snuggling under her covers. Her mother stood a bit awkwardly by the bed.

"Clary… do you want me to ring the Inquisitor's house and see if Jace would come over?"

Clary arched an eyebrow. "You would _do_ that?" she asked.

Jocelyn's lips tugged up a bit at the corners. "You'd be leaving the door wide open, trust me."

Clary smiled. "Would you?"

"Of course."

* * *

Clary's doze was interrupted by the sound of murmuring voices in the hallway. If she listened very closely, she found she could make out the words.

"I told you, Jace, she's fine."

"Well, when Izzy told me you'd asked for _me_ to come see Clary... Well, forgive me for thinking you'd never ask me to do that unless something was seriously wrong."

"I feel like I will never understand what she's truly been going through these past few months. But you can, Jace. You, and Isabelle and Alec and Sim- well, you all were there for all of it."

A pause followed Jocelyn's little speech, in which Clary assumed Jace probably gave her mother a tense sod or some other signal that was Jace-talk for "I respect you."

Clary watched through half-lidded eyes as Jace slipped through the door. She could only see his dark silhouette in the dusk-lit room, but it didn't matter. He began to push the door back closed with his heel when a sharp voice came from the hall.

"Door stays open."

Clary giggled despite herself, and Jace turned to her, grinning, as he made his way to her side. He stretched himself out on top of the covers and looked down at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, suddenly much more serious. Clary chose her words carefully.

"Not quite. I – I'm getting there."

Jace nodded, settling his head down on the spare pillow. "I know what you mean," he said quietly. "But we'll get through this, together. You, me. Isabelle and Alec and Maia, too."

Clary turned her head towards him, nodding. "I'm just so glad it's all over," she murmured. Jace pressed his lips to her temple, and despite herself a few more tears spilled through her lashes. And maybe it was her imagination, but Jace's eyes looked shiny too.

"We're going to be okay. We will. Maybe not right now, or anytime soon. But, as cliché as it sounds, we have each other. And in the end, that's more than I could have ever asked for."

Clary's eyes began to flutter shut, despite every effort to keep them open. She found her head on Jace's chest, one hand running gently through her curls, his other entwining itself with hers.

"Sleep," he said quietly. "You're exhausted. We'll talk more in the morning."

Clary nodded, turning her head to the side slightly. She knew Jace would probably be gone when she woke. He would slip off sometime after she fell asleep in order to avoid having to face her mother if he woke up there in the morning. But she was okay with that, she realized, as her thoughts began to morph themselves into dreams.

They were going to be okay.


End file.
